Non-Entity
by leavinghope
Summary: Bucky Barnes must learn to live in a world without Steve Rogers.
1. … and the first step is leaving Wakanda

After the relief of being restored to the Earth had dissolved into the pain of a world without Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes was faced with his first selfish decision in almost 80 years.

"What do I do now?"

The silver shimmering sunlight of Wakanda illuminated the private dining room of the royal family. The floor-to-ceiling windows allowed for an amazing view of Birnin Zana. Bucky would never tire of this city, so reminiscent of the futuristic imaginings of the pulp magazines of his youth. He'd made it to the future. Alone.

A voice broke into his musings. "Well, what did you want to do before the whole…?" Shuri snapped her fingers.

"I hadn't really thought that far ahead. I was focused on getting myself back." Bucky attempted a gentle smile at the young woman who had been so crucial to his healing.

Shuri gestured at the food on the table they shared, reminding him to eat. "You are losing weight. You are not taking care of yourself."

Bucky spooned a mixture of fruit and grains into his mouth and widened his eyes as if to say _Are you happy now?_.

Nodding approvingly, Shuri said, "We appreciate the work you've done, helping us fix the damage from the battles. My brother has made it clear, and I hope I have as well, that you are welcome to stay with us in Wakanda as long as you wish."

The offer was genuine, and the temptation to stay in Wakanda was strong. But he'd spent the past few weeks closing up his farm and had exchanged the comfortable rhythm of that life for jeans, hoodie, and a backpack with all of his meager possessions. He was ready to leave.

"You've been kind to me for so long. I am grateful for your hospitality, but I don't want to be a burden, any more than I already have. "

"You are not a burden, White Wolf. We've all grown quite fond of you, particularly the children."

Bucky felt the first genuine smile on his face in the months since his return. "The kids have been fantastic. Really. They were welcoming to me when they could have just been afraid. I've enjoyed teaching them baseball and profanity in various Eastern European languages."

"Perhaps you could become a teacher?"

"Don't know that I'd be an appropriate role model."

Shuri shook her head at Bucky's attempt to joke about his past. "You're a good man. You'll never convince me any different."

Bucky could only shrug at her certainty.

"I'm glad we had a chance to share a meal before you leave. T'Challa sends his regards. He is sorry he could not be here to send you off today."

"I regret not being able to say goodbye to him in person." And it was true. Bucky was no longer surprised by his ability to feel affection towards people. He would honestly miss Shuri, T'Challa, and so many other Wakandans who had allowed him into their lives.

"Where are you headed first? DC, still?"

"That's the plan. I have to visit the new Captain America."

Shuri winced. "Are you sure you're up to that?"

"It's just Wilson." Bucky ate another bite of his breakfast. "He asked me to give him tips on how to project good ol' Captain America righteousness and glory."

Shuri's eyes widened in mock dismay. "Oh, he asked the wrong person."

"Sure did. At least, I can help him learn how to use the shield. Wilson's been embarrassing himself so far, if I can be frank with you." Bucky made sure his facial expression showed he was teasing.

"You know how to use the shield?"

Bucky had held the shield many times. He remembered wielding it in the freight car, catching it as the Soldier, tossing it back and forth with Captain America behind enemy lines. He murmured wistfully. "I taught Steve, after all."

"Really?"

"Showed him how to use a garbage can lid to defend himself because he was always getting beat up in alleys."

Shuri laughed. "He was the troublemaker, wasn't he? I've seen photos of both of you from the 1930s and 40s. You are the one who looks like he should have been the bad influence, all roguish good looks and charm."

Bucky held up his hands, palms out defensively. "Nope. The bad influence was all him. I wouldn't have gotten into as many fights as a kid if I didn't have to haul his ass out of them all the time."

Shuri focused her keen gaze upon him. "Does it hurt to talk about him?"

Bucky bought time to think with another bite of food. "Of course, it does. It'd hurt more to not talk about him, though, you know?"

"We keep those we have lost alive in our memories. Speaking those aloud bring our loved ones back to life, if only for a fleeting moment."

Bucky hummed in response. They ate together in companionable silence until General Okoye walked in. "Wheels up in an hour, Sergeant Barnes."

As much as he felt he no longer deserved or wanted his rank, he appreciated the respect of the honorific directed towards him. He tipped his head. "Thank you, General."

"How dare you help take my favorite broken white boy from me?" Shuri crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow at the leader of the Dora Milage.

"It's not about helping him. I just enjoy the challenge of flying in and out of US airspace undetected." Okoye grabbed a piece of fruit from Shuri's plate, winked at them both, and then left the room.

As much as Bucky craved solitude, he knew he'd miss the banter and comfort of having a family, a team, around him. The decision to leave was the right one, much as his decision to be alone after the battle over the Potomac had been the right one. After so many years with no other purpose than to follow orders, Bucky needed time and space to find a new purpose. Nobody needed to bear witness to his upcoming struggles. Preparing to exist in a world without Steve would be much more difficult than preparing to live in a world with him. He could already feel emotional distance from Wakanda setting in.

Shuri must have seen it in his eyes. "I guess it's time to give you your bon voyage present."

"You don't have to give me anything when you've already done so much."

"Shut up, old man. First, the farm is yours. You built it."

"Shuri, no…"

Ignoring his protests, Shuri said, "Second…remember the favor you asked of me? Back before you went into cryo the first time. That project you wanted me to work on?"

"Yes." He could barely force out a whisper as his heart rate accelerated.

Shuri reached below the table and pulled out a small case. It was made of vibranium, inlaid with gold. "Touch here." She indicated a subtle thumbprint-shaped indentation. Bucky did so and heard the movement of a locking mechanism.

"Open it."

The case had several compartments to hold electronics, cords, and documents, and contained a precious bracelet of Kimoyo beads, but Bucky's attention was captured by two vials of clear liquid.

"I know the bracelet will not work outside Wakanda, but you can use it to return here and gain entry whenever you wish. Your cottage will be ready and waiting for you." Shuri was almost bouncing in her enthusiasm while showing off her gift to him.

Bucky touched the vials reverently. "Two doses?"

"When you asked me for this, I immediately knew Captain Rogers would want it, too. And that you would want it for him. It seemed wrong not to give you both doses now, as I always intended."

"Thank you. This means a lot." He had to know. "The formulation, did you destroy it?"

"No."

Before Bucky could object, she said, "There may always be a reason to refine it. I'm 99% certain it will work as is, but I'd rather not start from scratch if it doesn't. Don't worry, I hid the file inside a directory that contains all my worst musical choices."

Bucky appreciated her attempt to lighten the mood, but there was something he still needed to ask. "When I choose to dose myself, this arm… would you be willing to modify it or make me a new one, or at least take it back?"

"Why would you want that? It isn't a weapon."

"I know. But it's still stronger, more capable, than prosthetics made for amputees."

"Well, that just suits you then." At Bucky's confused look, Shuri continued, "You're one of the strongest, most capable men I've ever known."

"I don't know about that."

"I do. Everyone who has ever met you knows that about you."

Some of those who had met him hadn't survived long enough to know that about him because of his strength and capabilities. He couldn't go a single day, a single hour without remembering that.

Shuri must have recognized his thoughts from the expression on his face. She'd become expert at reading him. "After DC, what then?"

Bucky sighed ruefully at her. "Not sure. Been a long time since I had control over my own itinerary."

"What were your dreams a century ago, old man? Or do you not remember?"

Bucky remembered his dreams all too well. "I know I don't want to fight anymore. I know I don't want to be someone's tool."

"That's a good start." Shuri waited for him to continue. He owed this woman who he'd grown to think of as a beloved younger sister a better answer. A true answer.

"Shuri, you know as well as I do, I never gave one damn thought to a future that didn't include Steve. You helped me filter through my memories, assessing which ones were planted and which were real. You know ever since I met him, pretty much my whole life, my primary goal was to care for him. I just wanted him to be healthy and happy, and he never got that, not really. Healthy, yes, but happy? I don't think he ever was." Bucky felt a tear trickle down his face and wiped it away quickly. "He sacrificed so much, helped so many people. He deserved better."

Shuri reached across the table and grabbed his hand. "So do you. You deserve so much better than what was done to you. Nobody wanted you to be happy more than Steve did. He'd hate that you were suffering now."

"Well then, he shouldn't have offered himself up to be killed." The anger welled up in Bucky. "I didn't ask for that. He knew I would never want that."

"What would Steve want for you now?"

And as quickly as the anger had come, it fell away from Bucky, leaving him hollow. "He'd want me to live."

Shuri walked around the table to hug him where he was seated, her arms clasped over his chest. "Then that is what you know you must do."


	2. but maybe not without friends

Sam Wilson still lived in his same apartment at the outskirts of Washington D.C.

"Oh, sure, now I could afford something better, but it's nice to have something familiar to return to in the midst of all this new stuff that's going on."

Sam looked directly at the man sitting across from him at his kitchen table. As he picked up his bottle of beer, he said to him, "Speaking of familiar, this isn't the first time you've been in this apartment, is it?"

Bucky picked up his own beer and smugly replied, "Nope."

"Damn, Rogers was right. You were checking up on him here."

"Usually from outside. I only came in the once. I needed to…"

"Needed to what?"

Bucky hesitated even longer than usual. "This will sound so creepy."

"Well, it is you, dude." The teasing words were delivered with warmth and affection and understanding, and Bucky appreciated yet again why Steve had chosen Sam for a friend.

"I needed to smell him. His scent was such a strong sense memory for me, as much as his voice or his face, but I didn't trust it. I had to know it was really him." Bucky rubbed his hands through his hair to help hide his face. "If you'd come home fifteen minutes earlier, you'd have found me with my face near his pillow, sniffing it like I was a scent hound."

Sam gasped. "Oh, my god. I know what night you're talking about. Steve swore you'd been there. He said he could smell you. What is with you two?"

"You live that close to someone during the Depression and in Army tents all over Europe, their scent is as much a part of the environment as the air you breathe." Bucky inhaled deeply. "It lingers a bit here, you know." He closed his eyes and felt himself relax, comforted by Steve's presence in the room.

When Bucky reopened his eyes a few minutes later, Sam was smiling gently at him. "What?"

"This is going to sound condescending, so forgive me. But as a VA counselor and a vet who has battled demons of his own, I'm honored you closed your eyes with me in the room."

Bucky pondered that for a while. The answer seemed simple. "Steve trusted you."

"And that's enough for you?" Sam sounded skeptical.

Bucky nodded.

"Then why, man?"

Bucky heard all the questions Sam was asking. _Why didn't you let us find you? Why didn't you let Steve help you? Why did you hurt Steve for so long?_ These were questions with no simple answers.

"You got close to finding me, so many times. I was letting you near, because I needed to see Steve. I had to know he was okay. Then Sokovia happened, when I had to watch him almost get killed on TV. I thought it was going to kill me to not be able to help." Bucky shrugged his shoulders. "I almost weaponed up and joined you. But I was so afraid of the programming taking over again if I started fighting, started killing."

"That must have been a difficult choice, man."

"I hated letting Steve down."

"You never did that."

Bucky reluctantly brought up a sore point. "You stopped looking for me after Sokovia."

Sam raised a placating hand. "We didn't stop. You have to know that. Steve would have never stopped looking for you. But he couldn't go himself as often. He felt responsible for training the new kids, so spent more time at the Avengers compound."

"I thought that maybe he'd finally given up on me." Filled with guilt and relief, Bucky smiled faintly to himself. "That makes sense now. He always did like leading a team."

"Yeah. He was a natural leader." Sam sighed. "I am never going to be able to live up to him."

"Nobody could, Sam, but he'd be proud to know you carry the shield now."

"He wanted it to be yours."

"No. I could never have embodied the symbol, not after all I've done." Bucky put up a vibranium hand to stop Sam's protest.

Sam nodded in understanding. "Still, you're one of the best snipers the US has ever had. Wanna be my sidekick?"

"You'll need to find your own Bucky, Cap."

"That's going to be as hard as trying to live up to him, Barnes."

Bucky warmed at the compliment. "I'm really grateful he had you, Sam. It was easier for me to take the time to find myself again, knowing you had his back."

And he meant it. Bucky had investigated Sam, as soon as he was coherent enough to understand his need to protect Steve had not been planted by Hydra or anyone else. Sam had an honorable military record, strong academic background, and a reputation for loyalty. His work at the Veterans Administration was a bonus, because Steve needed someone who could understand him and who Steve could relate to. Sam had been a good friend to Steve, and Bucky sensed the potential for a strong friendship between him and Sam.

"How are you doing, Wilson?"

"Haven't had much time to grieve, being thrown into the Captain America role." Sam said. "I've told HQ to give me this weekend off. Figured we could sit back, trade stories, and cry over him together."

"I don't know if I have any more tears left in me, but that sounds like a good plan." Bucky clicked his beer bottle against Sam's and drained it dry.

Sam tilted his head towards the living room. The two men sat on the couch, another round of beers in hand, and Sam put a baseball game on the TV. "Steve told me how you and he would save up money to go to games. I cannot believe I'm sitting next to someone who used to watch the Brooklyn Dodgers at Ebbets Field."

Bucky could hear the crowd and feel the hard bench under him as clearly as if he were at the game. He turned his head away from Sam and could see Steve, pre-serum, cheering on his team. The sunlight glinted off his golden hair, his blue eyes sparkled, and a healthy tinge of pink appeared on Steve's cheeks. Bucky barely kept himself from reaching out to put his arm around Steve's shoulders. To break the spell, he said, "The games got him out in the fresh air. Seemed to help his asthma. He'd let me buy him peanuts or a hot dog, if he was distracted by the game enough. God knows he needed the calories." The memories kept coming. "Steve was always good with numbers. He knew the stats of all the players. Was great with strategy, too. He could predict pitches and stuff like that."

"Did you like baseball, too?"

Bucky stared, confused, at Sam.

"You just told me about going to Brooklyn Dodgers games in the '30s and '40s, and it was all about making Steve happy."

"Well, …"

Sam interrupted, "I'm pretty sure I know the answer, but I'm asking it so you have to answer out loud."

Bucky closed his eyes, waiting for the question.

"Have you made a decision in your life that did not involve a risk assessment for how it might affect Steve?"

 _Sam is clever_ , Bucky thought. That phrasing avoided problematic emotions and just focused on methodology. _Damn._ The question ached like a sore tooth, the kind of pain that was dull and ever-present until you poked and it flared hot and overwhelming.

Bucky remembered asking girls out who had friends for Steve, hustling extra work to make sure they had a roof over their heads, plastering his best fake smiles on when wearing his uniform so Steve didn't see how scared he was to go to war. And later, much later, keeping up his hygiene and setting alarm clocks to eat meals so Steve didn't think he was pathetic, whether or not he despised the Soldier who occupied the body of his old friend. Even the cottage in Wakanda had furniture and fabrics he knew Steve would like. _Ain't this one hell of a realization._

"No, I don't think I have." Bucky's voice was not as steady as he would have hoped.

"I'm sorry the two of you didn't have a chance to retire and just…" Sam paused. "Just enjoy the future together."

Bucky watched Sam clearly debate what he wanted to say next. "Spit it out, Wilson."

"Why did you stay away, hoping your memories would come back by themselves? I mean, Steve would have helped you with that. It would have made him happy to have helped you with that."

"I couldn't do that to Steve."

"Hey, man, what you did…"

Bucky wished he could make people understand how impossibly difficult that decision had been. "I know I hurt him by avoiding him. I know that. But if I'd gone to him, he'd have given up everything to help me. Look what happened after Vienna. What all of you went through because Steve couldn't let me go. I wasn't worth that much collateral damage to all of you. Twice… I have twice seen him drop the shield for me." Self-loathing gnawed at his stomach. "He had friends, a team, a purpose, Sharon… So yeah, in the short term, I hurt him. But I was playing a long game. Steve was better off without me. He already had everything he needed to make him happy, and he would have figured that out eventually."

Sam turned on the couch to more fully face Bucky. "You wanna know the first time I saw Steve happy? Truly happy?"

Bucky muttered, "I'm gonna regret this."

"Yes, you are, because he was in a hospital bed here in DC, the one you put him in, and he was so happy because he remembered you pulled him out of the Potomac. He had the biggest smile on his face, and I remember thinking to myself I was finally seeing Steve Rogers for the first time, not his Captain America facade."

"I didn't want him to put his life on hold for me."

"Well, he did." Sam shook his head. "Don't take this the wrong way. I'm projecting my old anger here. He was never angry at you. Just disappointed."

Bucky pulled up his knees and rested his forehead on his folded arms. "Ugh, that is the worst. Disappointing Steve."

"And then you took yourself away again, hiding in cryo."

Bucky snapped his head up and looked directly at Sam. "Do you think I wanted back into the cold? That was my worst nightmare. But I was a weapon, Wilson, I still am. I needed to be the only one who could pull the trigger. And as soon as Shuri and T'Challa could assure me the programming was gone, I left the ice for good. I didn't know how long it was going to take, but I couldn't have Steve waiting there, wasting his life by keeping watch over me."

Bucky knew Sam was curious, because Steve had kept Bucky's location a secret even from Sam and Natasha. "Texts and daily calls when he could after I was out of cryo. Video calls when you all weren't too busy taking down Hydra cells."

"So you had a chance to bond again."

"Yeah."

"Nothing in person?"

Bucky shook his head. "I'd only just started to trust that the triggers were gone for good when Thanos happened."

"Damn. I'm so sorry."

"Me, too." Bucky had imagined showing Steve his farm, hiking through Wakanda, shopping in the markets of Birnin Zana. Bucky had imagined a future with Steve in it, had always imagined a future with Steve in it since the day they met.

"So, what now?"

"I'm not sure. First, I've been ordered to report to Stark Tower." Bucky waved a dismissive hand at Sam's slightly panicked expression. "If I survive that visit, I think I'll simply wander. Apparently, I've been all over the world slaughtering people. I think I'd like to see the world the right way this time."

"Doing what?"

Bucky picked up his backpack. "Following advice from Shuri?" He grabbed his vibranium kit and used his thumbprint to open it. He showed Sam the inscription on the inner lid.

Sam laughed. _"What would Steve Rogers do?_ She honestly thinks that's a good moral code for you to live by? _"_

"I don't know she ever saw him in his 'never seen a fight he didn't want to finish'-mode."

"He must have always been on his best behavior on his visits to Wakanda."

Bucky recalled Steve patiently listening to Shuri and the doctors explain the cryonics chamber, quietly accepting Bucky's decision. "Yeah, he was mostly well-behaved there."

"I have to ask…." Sam gestured at the vials in the case as Bucky closed it up. "What are those?"

Bucky stowed the case. "I promise I'll tell you before I ever use it."

"Fair enough." Sam yawned. "Look, it's Friday night. Bunk here for the weekend, and face Stark on Monday."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." A beat. "Unless you had other plans."

"I usually sleep on your roof."

"Do I want to know how many nights you've spent up there?"

An actual giggle escaped from Bucky. "No, you really don't."

Sam stood up. "Let me show you the guest room, where you will sleep like a well-mannered human being for a change."

"Yessir, Captain America, sir." Bucky gave a sarcastic salute as he got to his feet.

He followed Sam down a short hallway, to a pleasant room adjacent to a small bathroom. Sam switched on a bedside lamp, casting a warm, cozy glow over the bed and nightstand. There was also a closet, a wardrobe, and one window with a solid defensible position and good sightline. Bucky inhaled deeply. The scent of Steve was strong.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." Bucky sighed wistfully. "It's calming."

"He may have left some stuff here. I haven't been able to bring myself to look yet."

"Supposed to go to the National Archives, I think."

"Pretty sure it belongs to you first." Sam rubbed his right hand on the back of his neck. "Take anything you want. You were his family, Barnes."

Bucky squeezed Sam's shoulder, his _friend's_ shoulder. "You were like a brother to him, Sam."

Sam turned a spectacular smile on Bucky. "Remember that tomorrow morning when I wake you up for a run."

"Nope."

"A run, brunch, then a visit to the VA center. Tomorrow and Sunday, that's the routine."

Bucky fake whined, "Why?"

"Because that's what Steve Rogers would do!" Sam quickly closed the door behind him to avoid the pillow Bucky had thrown at him. A muffled "good night" filtered through the door.

After tossing his backpack on the chair, Bucky explored the closet. Running shoes for the weekend and a worn brown leather jacket. He sniffed it. _Steve_. He placed it on top of his backpack, justifying his choice by his complete lack of cold weather outerwear. Next, he opened the drawers of the wardrobe. Mostly empty, except for a few pairs of socks and a soft blue scarf. The scarf was perfect to bring out the blue of Steve's eyes. He closed the drawer.

Bucky washed his face and brushed his teeth and combed out his hair. He stripped down to his t-shirt and briefs and settled into bed for a good night's sleep. He performed all required evening ablutions like someone who plans to live a life would do.

Moonlight illuminated the room. Faint sounds of traffic and sirens, the sounds of a city, seeped through the crack in the windowsill. A friend, a soldier, a hero down the hall provided a sense of security Bucky knows he will miss in the weeks to come. The bedsheets were clean and smelled only minimally flowery. An antique clock in the hallway clicked once per minute. The curtains had thirty-two panels. He turned on his side. _Steve_. Steve had used this pillow. Bucky pulled off the pillowcase and buried his nose in the pillow. It wasn't enough. He was on his feet and in front of the wardrobe before he consciously made the decision.

Bucky crawled back into bed, the scarf wrapped around his neck, and allowed himself to be surrounded in memories. _Steve._


	3. … and to trust in kindness again

Of course, Bucky had never been to Stark's NYC high-rise, but Steve had described it well enough. A bit too sterile, too formal to suit Steve, and Bucky agreed with his assessment. He enjoyed the view from the penthouse, though. He sought glimpses of his old city hidden amongst the new.

His thoughts were interrupted by the voice of the building. "Do you need anything, Mr. Barnes? Mr. Stark will be with you shortly."

Bucky prevented himself from jumping at the unexpected sound, glad that Steve had told him about Stark's talkative and helpful AI. "No, thank you, I'm fine."

"Very well, sir. If you need anything, just raise your voice and speak to me, Friday. Mr. Stark should be here any moment."

"Much appreciated, Friday."

Bucky turned away from the windows and inspected the rest of the room. This part of the penthouse was some sort of common area - kitchenette, cushy sofas, widescreen displays. He'd anticipated being summoned to an office or interrogation chamber, not somewhere kids could hold a slumber party. The background hum of electricity in the room implied more power than needed to run the visible electronics. There were a few subtle seams in one wall outlining an area large enough to hide one Iron Man suit. This room was friendly, but defendable. No less than Bucky would have expected.

"Found all the weapons yet?"

Tony Stark entered the room. Dressed in his characteristic black t-shirt, jeans, and tinted glasses, he seemed so much more fragile than Iron Man should be. Bucky noted a metal bracelet on Tony's right hand. He knew it could turn into a repulsor glove, but that was a messy offensive weapon to use in one's own home. Also defensive, then. Tony still didn't trust him. He couldn't blame him, because Bucky felt the same way about himself most days. The tension in his body loosened a little. _I might survive the day after all._

"Telling my host I identified his weapons cache would be impolite."

Tony stared for a moment, sizing him up. "Please, feel free to take off your jacket and get comfortable." If he noticed the jacket and scarf were Steve's, he did not say.

Bucky placed his belongings on the couch Tony indicated and sat down next to them. Tony sat on an adjacent sofa and placed a small box on the table between them.

"You seem relaxed for someone I tried to kill the last time I saw him. Have you been here before?"

"No…" Bucky paused to watch Tony's reaction. "But your facility upstate is very nice."

"Friday, update security protocols at the compound."

"Already on it, sir. Shall I ask Mr. Barnes if he'd like to consult on the new security measures?"

"You wound me, Friday." Tony crossed his legs and stretched an arm along the back of the couch. "So, you are probably wondering why I asked you here."

Bucky nodded.

"I had asked T'Challa to let me know when you left Wakanda."

"I'm aware. He wanted my permission to pass along that information to you."

"I figured as much. The royal family seems to have adopted you."

"They've been better to me than I deserve."

Tony hummed, whether in agreement or dissent was hard to tell. "Well, when I heard you were striking out on your own, I thought why let Wakanda have all the fun of kitting you out."

Tony opened the box and pulled out an earpiece. "Put this in your right ear."

Bucky inspected the device before doing what he was told.

"Alright, talk to Friday."

"Um, hello, Friday. You have a nice voice?" Bucky looked at Tony, who motioned that Bucky should keep going. "You keep the building at the perfect temperature, humidity and pressure. Thanks for being such a polite AI?"

Friday responded, "You're welcome, Mr. Barnes. I have the voice print, Mr. Stark."

Bucky heard Friday's voice resonate through the room and more gently in his head.

"Excellent." Tony clasped his hands together. "You now have access to all your possible telecommunications needs through your earpiece. It's voice activated, coded to you, so you just need to talk and you'll have information at your disposal."

"Wow." _Useful._

"Glad you like it, Mr. Barnes." Friday sounded pleased.

"It also has the ability to send me information… your location, pulse rate, body temperature." Tony set his jaw, like he had to force the next words out. "Will you allow me to monitor those?"

Bucky really hated the idea of being tracked, of his biological stats being tallied. "Why?"

"So I know you're safe."

Bucky studied Tony, who did not look away. His gut said Tony was telling the truth, so he offered a compromise. "One ping per day - geographic coordinates recorded as country only, one pulse rate reading, one temperature reading. Friday can tell you if the results are problematic and relate specific location, only if she deems I need assistance. Nothing more."

"That'll work." Tony smiled, outwardly pleased that had not escalated into a battle, and reached into the box again. "Here's a new phone. Contacts already programmed with our real names. Please change them to whatever nicknames you come up with for us, the more profane, the better. And now for a new identity."

Bucky looked at the documents Stark provided him. "I'm James Grant, now, huh?"

"It's always best to keep your first name, if at all possible, because we're so engrained to respond to it. Yours is incredibly common, so no reason not to use it. You should get used to not being Bucky any more, though."

Bucky continued to flip through the papers - Indiana drivers license, US passport, Global Entry, SENTRI… "Well, I'm not sure I am Bucky anymore, so …" Bucky cut off with a gasp, at the sight of Steve's face looking up at him.

"Shit." Tony rubbed the back of his neck. "I forgot those were in there."

Bucky gently ran a finger across the image of Steve, hair longer and darker, beard covering that stubborn jaw. "Steve Buchanan."

"When I first made these for you, I assumed you and Steve would be on the run together. Figured I'd have you both covered."

Bucky wondered if Steve knew Tony had been willing to help. "You did this for us?"

"Yeah, not long after I got back from Siberia."

The words slammed into Bucky, as painful as a rain of bullets. "I'm so sorry. I still don't know what to say." Tears welled up in Bucky's eyes.

"Then don't. Just don't." Tony took a few deep breaths and then started gritting words out in his rapid-fire fashion. "After I got over the horror at seeing my parents murdered by someone standing right in front of me, after I got over the awe at witnessing Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes fighting together as one, like you'd never been separated for a second in your lives, after I recovered from the quite frankly impressive damage the two of you inflicted on me, one thing kept running through my mind." Tony looked directly into Bucky's eyes. "I kept hearing Howard calling the Winter Soldier _Sergeant Barnes._ "

Bucky started to say something, but Tony waved him off. "Don't."

Bucky nodded and slowly reached towards his backpack. Tony was tracking his movements, so he made sure his backpack was wide open as he pulled out the small case he used for his most valuable items. He put the forged documents inside as Tony squeaked, "Is that vibranium?"

"Yup. Same as my arm."

"You are walking around carrying almost all the vibranium that exists outside of Wakanda. You are the most expensive man alive."

"Not for sale."

"You could be set for life by selling those. I'd buy."

Bucky thought of the words engraved inside the case and smiled. "Not gonna happen. I'm not afraid of earning my keep."

"Oh, I took care of that, too." Tony handed over a slim wallet. "Debit, credit, cash, unlimited funds."

Bucky would never understand why people were being so goddamned good to him after all of his crimes. "I can't accept this."

"Yes, you can. Cap would kill me if I didn't take care of you. His ghost would show up and kill me with his damned puppy dog eyes, and I'd be so happy to see him I'd die willingly, but I'd rather let his soul rest easy." Tony paused. "Mine, too."

As Bucky put everything into his case and closed it, he said, "I'm overwhelmed."

"Hopefully that's because Tony is being uncharacteristically nice to you."

Bucky stood up at the sound of Pepper Potts' voice. He shook her outstretched hand, saying, "Ma'am." He nodded at Bruce Banner, who was close behind Pepper.

"Hello, James. Please sit back down."

"Do you have news, love of my life?"

"Nothing definitive yet, but…" Pepper turned to look at Bucky. "We are working towards clearing your name. Well, as much as we can. Getting your status changed to MIA, not KIA, so we can designate you as a POW. That'll allow us to argue duress as a legal defense, and maybe, just maybe, help you become Bucky Barnes again in the future."

And if he could be himself again, then… "And Steve's name? He'd be in the clear?"

Bucky had watched the broadcast of the state funeral for Captain America. He'd been alone in his cottage in Wakanda, still in a spiral of despair over Steve's death, with a serious amount of anger at not being able to attend the service. Dignitaries who had never met Steve fought back fake tears over their supposed pain at the loss of the national icon. They granted forgiveness for choices that Captain America made, choices Steve had never regretted and never apologized for. They said Captain America's sacrifice showed he'd never meant to betray the governments and citizens of the world, but had been led astray by a misplaced trust in a man with only the face of a friend.

Bucky's sole consolation during the funeral was that all of the Avengers present looked as disgusted by the display as he felt.

"I don't have the words to explain what it's done to me, him being considered a criminal. I couldn't give a shit about myself, but Steve? After all he did for this country? The world?" Bucky's voice cracked with emotion.

Bruce spoke up for the first time. "You know, Steve said almost that exact thing about you. Bucky Barnes was a beloved war hero, then your name was outed as the Winter Soldier in a ploy to destroy the Avengers. Almost more than anything else that was going on, anything people were saying about him, the damage to your reputation was so very painful for Steve."

The people in the room were all friends of Steve. Sure, they knew him best as his Captain America persona, but they also knew Steve as well as he'd let anyone know him in the twenty-first century. Not for the first time, Bucky was grateful the branch of SHIELD that had found Steve in the ice brought him to this group of individuals, not a special weapons lab somewhere in deep ops secretly run by Hydra. Life turns on such seemingly inconsequential actions. And because of this, Bucky was surrounded by people who were invested in his well-being, not his capability as a weapon.

"I sure am lucky you all cared about Steve so much."

"He was hard not to love." Tony said. "Trust me, I tried."

Pepper smiled. "Steve loved you, more than anything, anyone."

Bucky sighed. "I will never understand why."

"You were his hero." Tony put his arm around Pepper, placing a sweet kiss on her temple before looking back to Bucky. "It's as simple as that, Barnes."

Bucky felt no shame at the tears running down his cheeks, but was still surprised into emitting a small sob when Pepper pulled a box of tissues out of nowhere to offer him. Acts of kindness, large and small, were treasures, and this day had been full of them.

After Bucky had regained control, Tony asked, "Where to next?"

"Haven't really decided yet." Bucky said. "Before the war, I took whatever job I could… dock worker, mechanic, competitive boxing… The army taught me first aid along with all the killing. My time after… " He glanced at Tony before continuing. "I know more languages than I knew existed when I was a kid, I can cook pretty much any cuisine, not so bad with technology for being a centenarian. I've got skills, so I should get by."

"I have a suggestion." Bruce said. "I'm going back out in the world myself. I have friends in Doctors without Borders. We could use some help." Bruce glanced at Tony, like he was begging him to understand his offer. "It also would be good to have someone with me who could take on the big guy if I need him to." Looking back at Bucky, he finished, "What do you think?"

Going out in the world, helping people in need. _What would Steve Rogers do?_ Bucky grinned. "Sounds perfect."


	4. … and to make contributions to the world

In the Stark Industries airplane on the way to Bangladesh, Bucky took out the gear Tony gave him. He plugged in the earpiece and heard a female voice say, " _Hello, Sergeant Barnes. It's good to be able to talk to you finally._ "

Bucky kept his voice low, to not disturb a sleeping Bruce in the couch at the front of the cabin. "Thank you. Call me James, though. It'll help me get used to it out in the world."

" _Of course, James_."

The voice was slightly different than he recalled hearing in Stark's building. "Am I speaking to Friday?"

" _My name is not Friday_."

"What would you like to be called? Otherwise, you're just the lady inside my head."

" _You may call me Lady._ "

Bucky let out a soft laugh. "Alright, that'll work. Lady, would you please give me a rundown on the Kutupalong refugee camp."

" _I'm happy to help you, James. Kutupalong is located in the southernmost region of Bangladesh and is the world's largest refugee camp…_ "

By the time the plane landed, Bucky had a handle on the grim situation on the ground. "Thank you, Lady."

" _You're welcome_."

"Did you get any sleep?" Bruce stretched in his seat towards the front of the plane. They hadn't spoken since the very beginning of the flight from New York, and Banner's undemanding manner had put Bucky right at easy.

"Nah, but I don't need much sleep."

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

Bucky grabbed his backpack and followed Bruce to deplane. Bruce stopped before descending to the tarmac and turned to Bucky. "Um, call me David in front of everyone."

"First name or last name?"

Bruce reached out his right hand. "Dr. David Banner. Nice to meet you."

Bucky chuckled and shook his hand. "James Grant. Not a doctor. What can I do to help?"

The first few days, Bucky helped wherever needed the most: reinforcing tents, delivering water and food, guard duty. About a week into their stay, while delivering medical supplies to Bruce's workspace, Bucky saw a little girl who was missing a right arm. She was sitting with an older woman and man, and Bruce was explaining prosthetics options to them. The fear on the little girl's face reached somewhere deep inside Bucky, who walked over and took off the glove on his left hand. The little girl's eyes widened. Then Bucky pulled up his left sleeve and slowly placed his arm in reach of the little girl, who timidly touched it. He murmured some of the phrases he'd picked up over the last week, ones that meant _my name is James_ and _what's your name_ and _it'll be okay_ and _you're doing great_. The adults stood up, still talking to Bruce, but the little girl hugged Bucky around his waist, and he gently patted her head with his vibranium hand.

Once they were alone, Bruce said, "You're really good with kids."

"Spent a lot of time with them in Wakanda."

"Did you have much experience before?"

Memories of a distant past flooded Bucky's mind. "I had sisters."

"Any family left?"

"Yeah, I've got some great-nieces and nephews around."

"Does your family know you're alive?"

Bucky shook his head. "I'm one hell of a secret to have to keep."

A sympathetic look flitted across Bruce's face. Bucky had no doubt that Bruce had made similar tough decisions since the Hulk because part of his life.

"Maybe assist me with the kids?" Bruce seemed embarrassed to ask. "My friend here who knows me, actually knows the big guy, sends a lot of children my way. He thinks it'll be easier for me to deal with, but I've never been great with kids and what has been done to them makes me so angry."

The refugee camp exposed humanity's breadth of injustice and brutality, enough to anger them both. After a particularly grueling day, Bruce called Bucky over to his tent. "I'm feeling a bit green around the edges. Mind hanging out with me for a while?"

Lady murmured in his ear, " _I calculate an 85% probability that Dr. Banner just wants your company, but thinks you would refuse_."

Bucky smiled at Bruce. "Sure. I could use some company myself."

The interior of Bruce's tent was a spartan as Bucky's - a twin bed, a desk and chair, and a chest to store belongings. There was a hint of lavender in the room, a soothing scent. Bucky wondered if Bruce used aromatherapy to relax.

"Tea?"

"Thank you."

A small generator powered minimal electricity to their quarters, enough to keep electronics charged and to run a hot plate and electric tea kettle. Bruce gestured for Bucky to take the desk chair.

"Sorry I don't have milk or sugar to offer you."

"No worries." Bucky looked at the mug of tea now in his hands. He didn't have tea preferences. Or maybe he would someday when he remembered he was allowed to have preferences at all.

Bruce sat down on the bed and took a sip of tea. His shoulders immediately loosened up. "So, how are you holding up here?"

Bucky smiled ruefully. "You think I, of all people, would understand the cruel and inhumane shit people do to each other, but I still find myself appalled most of the time."

"That just means you're human."

Lady whispered in his ear, " _See, I told you. You're human, not a monster._ "

Bucky wondered if Lady would always be so chatty and focused his attention on Bruce. "How are you?"

"Frustrated that I can't do more."

"That bringing out the big guy a bit?"

"Just a little bit. Mostly it's the doctor part of me that's angry."

Bucky felt a kinship with Bruce. He also thought of himself as being a good man, or at least having been one before World War II trained him to kill and Hydra wielded him as a weapon. Bruce was a gentle and caring man, and the Hulk's deeds weighed upon him much as the Winter Soldier burdened Bucky.

He thought of the vials in his case. "If you had the ability to get rid of the big guy, would you?"

"No, not anymore. We're in a much better place than we used to be. He listens to me more, and I've started listening to him instead of resenting and resisting him." Bruce shook his head, sadness written all over his face. "I wish we'd gotten there earlier. Would have spared a lot of casualties."

"Well, I keep blaming myself for not breaking my chains sooner, so I understand."

Bruce stared at Bucky in disbelief. "What you accomplished was astonishing. I've seen some of the Hydra records. It took them years to break you, and to overcome that level of programming by yourself? It's miraculous, truly."

 _Steve was the miracle_ , Bucky thought. "I don't know that I'd have been able to break free without Steve. Seeing him just…"

Bucky was drawn back into his memories of Steve's face, his voice, the feel of his body under his hands as they'd fought that day. The Asset had never experienced familiarity before, and not just that, but the bond, the _rightness_ of being with Steve, even as he tried to obey his programming.

"Thank goodness for super soldiers." Bruce broke into Bucky's reverie. He was disturbed by the hint of envy in Bruce's voice.

"I'm sorry for what happened to you, Banner, but I'm glad you didn't succeed. The world doesn't need more super soldiers."

"The serum is capable of so much more than that."

"But that will never be its intent. Steve signed up for it, for all the right reasons. But I woke up on a table, forever changed, without any consent to what happened to me. For what happened to me after."

"That wasn't your fault."

"I know that, or at least I try to believe that. But I'm still a weapon. The people who made me, who want more like me, will always look at the serum as a weapon."

"When you look around here, though, don't you wish these people had your healing powers?"

Bucky looked down at his hands, one flesh, one metal, clutching each other. "Do you know my enhanced memory capabilities means I remember every kill I made in excruciating detail? Their last words, the screams, …"

Bruce said, "I lose the details. I wake up confused, just knowing I did something bad."

"Shuri asked me if I wanted her to delete the memories, the bad ones. I kept them because I need to own what I did, to earn the right to keep the good memories."

"That must suck."

"It really does." But he could tell Bruce wasn't convinced yet that the serum was inherently a bad thing. Bucky paused to think of what he could possibly say to make Bruce understand. "Do you know I sometimes have to concentrate to feel pain? You could hit me over and over again, the green guy could, and I wouldn't feel it til later, possibly when it was too late to keep my injuries to a recoverable level."

"This voice in my head" he gestured to his earpiece "reminds me to eat. I'm a child of the Depression, I know hunger and deprivation, and most of the time, I still don't remember to eat. And I have to give myself permission to enjoy food. To taste it. To dislike cilantro and to savor chocolate ice cream. I have to remind myself how to want things."

To want things like… Bucky took a deep breath to ease his tension. "Do I wish folks could heal like me? Of course, I do. But what I've gone through…" Bucky gesticulated to the camp around them. "… what these people are going through show we're not ready yet. Someone will weaponize any form of this serum. That's the only thing in my life I'm sure of now that Steve is gone."

Bruce knew he'd lost the debate. "God, I wish I could argue against that, but I can't."

Seeking to reassure the very kind man across from him, Bucky said, "I know you'd only want to use it for good. This isn't a personal thing."

Waving Bucky's apology away, Bruce said, "I haven't pursued the serum in a long time. I promise I won't do it again."

"And if you hear about someone working on it?"

"I'll let you know."

"Thank you." Bucky drank the last of his tea. "For the tea and the company."

"This discussion didn't upset you?"

"Not at all." Bucky paused to figure out exactly what it was he was feeling. "It just reminded me I'm still scared all the time."

"Of what?"

"Of losing the control I've struggled to get back."

"I completely sympathize with that." Bruce stood up and smiled shyly at Bucky. "More tea?"

Bucky looked up at the man who probably understood him most now that Steve was gone. "That'd be great."

The men spent the rest of the evening talking about other random things, from the mundane to the sorts of things they couldn't talk about with anyone else. Food, music, the botany of Wakanda, meeting aliens and traveling through space. Bucky couldn't help but wonder at the weirdness of his new life.

As he walked back to his tent, Bucky held an imaginary conversation with Steve in his head. _You were right. Banner is a good guy. Had a nice chat with him. Wish you could have been there._

 _"_ _You miss Captain Rogers."_ Lady popped into his thoughts.

"I'll never stop."

 _"_ _It'll get easier in time."_

"Nah." Bucky entered his tent and sat down on his bed. "Anyone else? Sure. Not Steve, though. This will never not hurt like hell."

 _"_ _May I make a suggestion?"_

Bucky suspected this was a little forward for an AI assistant, but was game. "Of course."

 _"_ _As long as you're here with Dr. Banner, you're still Bucky Barnes, the best friend of Captain America. Perhaps you should go somewhere nobody knows you, so you can learn to be James Grant."_

"What, are you my therapist now?"

 _"_ _If you like."_

Bucky wondered if Lady could sense him rolling his eyes. "Nope."

 _"_ _If you don't mind me asking, what is your plan for the future?"_

That was an awfully open-ended question, so Bucky focused on the immediate. "I want to stick around for a few months. I can do good things here. Then, well, it isn't the safest option, but I want to go back to the States. Bounce around a little." He thought of his desire to make amends for his past deeds. "I could do more volunteering. Stark gave me enough money, so I don't have to work if I don't want to. I can just see where I'm needed the most."

 _"_ _That sounds like something Captain Rogers would have approved of."_

He couldn't tell if that was approval or censure in Lady's tone. He recalled Sam asking him about making decisions without thinking of Steve. Bucky had lived so long without a moral compass, programmed to not care about anything. But caring about Steve had saved him. Steve _was_ his compass. And without Steve in his life, he truly felt adrift. Leaving this camp and Banner would mean unstructured days and nights, so many decisions to make on his own.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I should stop considering Steve in everything I do. I'm just not ready."

 _"_ _Do you think you'll ever be?"_

Bucky laid back on his insubstantial mattress and stared at nothing until he fell into an uneasy slumber, filled with dreams of Brooklyn and Steve and the lost chance of home.


	5. … but the past keeps finding him

Bucky's first stop back in the United States was Washington, DC, his last "home" as the Winter Soldier or Asset or whatever he was then. Bundled up against the cold in a hoodie, Steve's jacket and scarf, Bucky wandered the city for a day, dropping by the revamped Captain America Smithsonian exhibit, peering at the construction site of the Captain America monument, and locating the spot on the Potomac where he had dragged Steve ashore. Every stop brought back bleak memories, and he kept walking. As he looked up at the old bank building which had been his cage, he whispered, "I hope Steve never knew I was held just a few miles from where he was living. He'd never have forgiven himself."

 _"He found out. He never forgave himself."_

Sometimes Bucky was deeply disturbed by how much Lady seemed to know.

Bucky took a chance and dropped by Sam's apartment. Sam welcomed him with a hug. "You're looking good!"

"Thanks. You, too." It was the truth. Sam appeared healthy and happy.

"You're just seeing me on a rare well-rested day. I've been in town doing paperwork, and it's been fantastic to sit still for a few days."

Bucky smiled at Sam. "Captain America prefers paperwork to his superhero duties. I promise I won't tell anyone."

The two men ordered in pizza and talked until the early morning hours. Sam bemoaned his lack of a love life, and Bucky regaled him with stories of women throwing themselves at a mortified star-spangled Steve. Bucky spoke of the despair pervading the refugee camp and his attempts to comfort the children there. Sam related the details of some of the missions he and other Avengers had undertaken, but couldn't hide his regret and not being able to spend more time at the VA.

"Maybe that's something I can do in your place to soothe your conscience."

 _"You might be recognized."_

Bucky ignored Lady's warning and continued. "I've been thinking of volunteering. I'm sure there are things I can do at the VA centers."

Sam stared thoughtfully at Bucky. Knowing him, Sam was probably running through all of the possible risks to Bucky's anonymity and safety. Then Sam shrugged and said, "Just do it somewhere else. No offense, but you're in DC in the winter right now. Go somewhere with a beach, dude."

And that's why Bucky found himself in a suite on the top floor of a high-rise hotel along San Diego's harbor two days later. Sam had convinced him to splurge a bit. The top floor had a single alarmed and monitored entry, an extra bit of security to calm his nerves. His suite had windows spanning two walls, but instead of feeling exposed, he just felt free. He could see the shipyards towards the southern end of the bay, the naval base just a slim span across, and Cabrillo at the northern point out to sea. Sometimes he could see the Coronado islands in the distance, small uninhabited bits of Mexico poking above the waves. The expansive view seemed full of possibilities instead of danger, the opposite of a prison. It helped, if course, that it would take a sniper better than him to hit their target at this height and distance.

There were no snipers better than him.

Bucky established a routine: a quick breakfast at dawn, running in Balboa Park shadowing the recuperating vets from the Naval Medical Center, another quick breakfast at one of the museums, returning to the hotel to bathe, a bus ride to Fort Rosecrans National Cemetery to maintain the gravesites, lunch near the VA, performing any needed chores there after, taking meals to the homeless downtown, and then wandering the city. He discovered amazing taco trucks and the simple joys of living in a dog friendly city, never more than a few yards from a pup to scratch. He flew a glider at Torrey Pines and sent a photo to Sam, but couldn't bring himself to go to the zoo, too similar to the cages of his past. He found the abundance of active and veteran military personnel soothing in a way he hadn't anticipated, a reminder of a time in his life when he was surrounded by a family built by bonds other than blood.

That bond had led him to do some volunteer stints on the _USS Midway._ It amused him he was actually older than the ship, but although he died before the ship received its commission, he felt connected. He felt the Howling Commandos and Steve with him as he swept floors and cleaned bathrooms and inhaled the lingering smell of grease in the galley.

About three months into his stay, he was taking a deep breath of ocean air on the flight deck when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"James?"

He turned to see Colonel James Rhodes, dressed in civilian clothes.

"Sir."

"I'm not on duty, and you haven't been active in the military for a while. Call me Rhodey."

"Sure, Rhodey."

"Let's go get something to eat, shall we?"

After sitting down with baskets of fish tacos on a bench along the embarcadero, Bucky asked, "How did you find me?"

"Somebody let me know they thought they saw you here."

 _Shit_ , Bucky thought, as Lady said, " _I can have travel arranged in five minutes, just give me a destination._ "

"Do I need to bug out?"

Rhodes shook his head. "You're safe. You know, you're a hero to some of these guys."

"What?" Bucky couldn't believe what he'd heard. "That is wrong, so wrong."

"When we all heard that people knew, that SHIELD knew, you were alive all those years, it hit us hard. Me, included." Rhodes lowered his voice, "Barnes, they left you behind."

Bucky reeled at the sound of his name. It had been a long time.

Rhodes placed a steadying hand on his soldier. " _Leave no one behind._ That's the mantra. And they failed at it. They failed you."

Bucky knew Rhodes was right. The United States should never have left him in captivity for so long. But, as always, he resisted the lure of recriminations, because nothing would ever change the atrocities he had committed.

"You look so young." The question appeared on Rhodes's face before he vocalized it. "Wait, how old are you?"

"Now that is an excellent question, Colonel Rhodes, sir." Bucky smirked, the ridiculousness of the situation not lost on him. "I was 27 when I died the first time. I don't really have a good gauge on how long I was out of the freezer as the Soldier. So, mid- to late-30s? Most likely?"

"So young. Oh man, Captain Rogers was that young, too." Rhodes chuckled in disbelief. "He always came across as older."

"Steve was born an old man." In response to Rhodes' arched eyebrow, Bucky continued. "His mother was widowed at a very young age. Steve took being the man of the house very seriously. He also hated how much his illnesses troubled his mom, so he became a stoic by the time I met him. Just a little kid, already the strongest man I ever met." Bucky wasn't embarrassed by the tears filling his eyes. "God, I miss him."

"We all do."

"It's good to talk about him to someone who knew him. Who knows who I am."

"Must be hard on you, out in the world without your own name."

"Not sure many people would even recognize my name anymore. Did you know they erased me from the Smithsonian exhibit?"

"What?"

"Yup. No mention of Steve's childhood friend, no uniform, no longer listed as a member of the Howling Commandos. Nothing."

"That's awful. I can't believe they're disrespecting you like that."

"That exhibit was where I learned my few fragmented memories were real. That I was Bucky Barnes, a real person, not just a damned killing machine. I felt like I was disassociating again going in there and not seeing myself." Bucky shrugged, trying to make it seem like it didn't hurt as much as it did. "But I guess keeping Steve's image clean is more important than acknowledging the complications of my existence."

"You are a veteran and a World War II hero. People need to remember you, not have you erased from history."

Bucky chewed the last bite of his taco. "I deserve worse."

"You, Steve, and your family deserve better," Rhodes assured him.

They parted with Rhodes reminding him that Pepper and Tony were still working on clearing his name. Bucky only stayed in San Diego a few more days after that.

Never staying in any one location more than three weeks, Bucky traveled the United States. His routine did not deviate much: arrange for a modest accommodation, sometimes trading work for board; performing odd jobs at the local VA center; volunteering at dog shelters; maintaining gravesites at the closest veterans cemetery; providing food to the homeless and others in need. Sometimes he lived in a place without using his prosthesis, knowing that he wouldn't receive pitying looks amongst so many veterans. He would stand or sit in the back during group therapy sessions, impressed by the bravery of those confronting their own demons. When called upon, he would shake his head, saying, "I can't talk about it, but thank you for sharing your stories."

And at every stop, there would come a time when someone would salute and call him "Sergeant Barnes." At one VA center in Colorado, an old poster of the Howling Commandos appeared a week after Bucky did. He would only hang around for a week more, at the most, once recognized, leaving a note thanking everyone at the center for their understanding and acceptance, signing it simply as _James_.

After a year of this, Bucky was not surprised to find Sharon Carter waiting for him at a VA Center in Alexandria. He knew cameras were pointed at the grave of Captain America, but to clean it off and leave flowers, well, it had been a risk worth taking.

"James Grant, is it?"

"That's what it says on my ID, so yes, Agent Carter."

She gestured for him to take a seat across the table where she sat in the volunteer break room. They were the only people there.

"I'm sorry for your loss, ma'am."

Sharon looked him directly in the eyes. "I want to make it clear, I never helped you. I helped Steve, and if he used my assistance to keep you safe, that was on him. Don't expect anything from me."

"Are you here to bring me in?" Bucky knew she had been reinstated to the CIA, one of the few things Steve had ever mentioned about her.

"No." Sharon took a deep breath. "There are just a few things we need to discuss."

Bucky doubted that, but nodded for her to continue.

"Where is his body?"

"I don't know." Bucky remembered screaming for help, asking for Thor or Strange or anyone to move Steve's body before officials could get to him. He could still hear the warning to step away from "the property of the United States Government" as he shielded Steve before his body disappeared with Thor.

Lady interrupted his thoughts. " _I know, if you want me to tell you._ "

Bucky refrained from rolling his eyes at Lady while Sharon asked, "Would you tell me if you knew?"

"No."

Sharon must have sensed he was telling the truth, and she sighed before moving onto the next topic. "I know you're traveling light, but I will arrange for you to have his burial flag, if you want it."

"No." Because Sharon seemed surprised, Bucky added, "It's rightfully yours, as his partner."

Sharon scoffed. "I was never that."

As she spoke, she took a well-worn leather notebook out of her briefcase. Bucky recognized it as the kind Steve used to sketch in.

"You should have this."

Bucky ached to reach out for it, but instead replied, "All of Captain America's artifacts are to be housed in the National Archives, ma'am."

"Aunt Peggy held this back in 1945, for reasons that will likely become obvious to you. She returned it to Steve when he came out of the ice. I never looked at it until I was put in charge of gathering his belongings for conservation." Sharon grimaced **. "** I was entrusted to keep any national secrets from becoming public knowledge."

She held the notebook out to him, and Bucky took it from her with his metal hand. He gently ran his fingers over the cover. "And you need me to determine if there are secrets in here?"

"The judgment about the notebook is yours to make. I think Steve would have wanted that." Sharon answered with a disdainful look as she stood up.

Bucky held the book close to his chest and inhaled the scent of Steve.

"The next time I see you, I will bring you in to ensure your victims get the justice they deserve."

"Understood."

Sharon visibly struggled with the decision to say more. After staring at Bucky for a long uncomfortable moment, she said, "When Aunt Peggy found out Steve was alive, she gave me advice in case I ever had to work with him at SHIELD. She said, _There is only one thing Steve Rogers loves more than helping those in need, and that thing is James Buchanan Barnes._ And she was right." Sharon glanced over her shoulder as she walked away. "You didn't deserve him."

Bucky waited until he was alone in the room before he murmured, "I know."

 _"I believe Captain Rogers would have disagreed."_

The voice in his head startled Bucky, buried as deep in his pain as he was. "Thanks for the emotional support."

 _"It is only the truth."_

"So sure of that, are you?"

 _"Yes."_

Bucky stowed the notebook in his backpack, safe in its vibranium case.

 _"Aren't you going to look at it?"_

"Later."

Bucky checked out of his hotel within the hour and caught a train to Brooklyn.


	6. and admit feelings long unacknowledged

By the time Bucky finished going through the notebook for the tenth or hundredth or thousandth time, it was 3 am. He was about to flip back to the beginning when Lady startled him.

 _"_ _Do you want me to call for assistance? Your heart rate and pulse are significantly different from your normal values."_

Brooklyn. Modest hotel room. On a bed, fully clothed, gloves and shoes still on. Propped up with bed pillows, reading by the light of the bedside lamp. Blinking himself back to awareness of his surroundings, he replied, "No. I'll deal with it myself. Don't communicate this to Stark."

 _"_ _Let me know if you change your mind."_

Now that Lady had drawn his attention to his body, he realized he was breathing rapidly and shallowly. He started breathing exercises, but knew a distraction would be more helpful. With a shaking arm, he reached for his phone on the drab nightstand to call Sam, knowing he'd be forgiven for the lateness (or was it earliness?) of the hour. But before he grabbed the phone, it started to ring. _Perfect timing._

"Wilson?"

"Didn't expect you to pick up so quick. Were you awake?"

"Yeah."

A pause. "Are you okay?"

"Just couldn't sleep." It was the truest thing Bucky could say about himself right then. He steadied his voice. "What do you need?"

"I need a sharpshooter. I wouldn't ask, but Barton is on his scheduled family leave for the month, and you're the best in any case."

"I won't kill anyone."

"I would never ask you to. This op is high stakes, but fairly low risk. Tranquilizer slugs from a large distance. That's all I need."

Bucky looked down at the notebook clasped in his metal hand. This could be the diversion he needed. "I'll do it."

"How soon can you get to New York?"

"Already in Brooklyn. Just arrived this afternoon."

Another pause. "Are you sure you're up to this?"

"Just tell me when and where."

"No sense in waiting now. Meet me at the tower in an hour. And clear the rest of your busy schedule, because are going to have a long talk after this op."

Bucky sighed with relief.

Sam was true to his word, supplying a rifle equipped only with tranquilizers. The operation went smoothly: Bucky tranquilized several suspects from his vantage point on one rooftop, Sam flew them to a distant rooftop, and Spider-Man webbed them together for authorities to pick up, like a criminal package all wrapped up with a bow.

The three men were at brunch by 10 am.

Bucky hated how the rifle had felt so natural in his hands, but he owed Sam, he owed all of the Avengers, any help they requested of him. For a while, he had contemplated asking to join the team or doing some vigilante work as a way to atone for his many past wrongdoings. But he felt a clean break from violence was for the best, and Steve had agreed and supported him in his choice. Confronting his skill for violence had been a challenge since his talent was discovered by the Army in World War II. His greatest fear, other than losing Steve, had been reacquiring a taste for killing. He was glad to have helped his friends on this day, but knew he wouldn't be willing to do so again any time soon.

Peter Parker's knee had been bouncing for five minutes as they all sat together at a table eating a breakfast of pastries and granola parfaits and savory quiches. Bucky exchanged glances with Sam, who then put a hand on Peter's knee. "Still coming down?"

"Sorry. I still get so worked up each time. I'm so afraid of messing up, of someone getting hurt." Peter actually blushed. "I'm sure I'll get used to it someday."

"The day you get used to it is the day you stop, kid." Bucky stilled Peter's tapping fork with a gloved hand. "Promise me that."

Peter looked at Bucky, who knew the young man saw his whole miserable history written on his body. Peter replied earnestly, "I promise, sir."

"Good." He pointed at Peter's plate with his own fork. "Now settle down and finish your breakfast."

 _"_ _Take your own advice, James."_

The men cleared their plates in companionable silence. Bucky finally allowed himself to relax, surrounded by the smell of coffee and the company of friends. Sam eventually broke the silence with a grin.

"Let me present you with our next mission." Sam put an arm around Peter's shoulders. "Our man here is too nervous to ask out this girl he's really into."

"No, just stop it, no." Peter ducked his head.

Bucky was delighted. "I have not been able to tease anyone about having a crush since the 1940s. Please, how may I be of assistance in this op?"

Peter buried his face in his hands as Sam spoke. "There's this girl, MJ. She's really smart, funny, a social activist… all these great things, and Peter is too intimidated to speak up."

Bucky prodded, "But Peter, you're a great guy. Why wouldn't she be interested?"

Peter peeked out between his fingers that were still covering his face. "Maybe she would be? But we're friends. I'm scared to ruin our friendship if she doesn't want to go out on a date. You understand that, right?"

 _More than you know, kid._ "Of course."

Sam said, "That's why I've brought you in to help, James. Steve told me all the stories, you out with a different girl almost every weekend. He called you a Casanova in that ancient way the two of you share."

"Not quite a Casanova, just out to have some fun."

"He said you were always setting him up, dragging him out on double dates."

"Well, the women of Brooklyn were not perceptive enough to see how amazing Steve was and ask him out themselves, so I did it for them."

Sam looked at Bucky thoughtfully. "But there was never anyone special for you? No long-term relationships?"

"No." Bucky tried to remember names and faces, but none of the girls of the 1930s and 40s had made a long-term impression, even before his mind was wiped repeatedly. "I wasn't awful to them. Didn't lead them on or take advantage of them. I just enjoyed having someone to dance with. I never felt a connection to anyone."

"How about Steve?"

"There was only Peggy, at least back then." Bucky's stomach roiled with the mixture of jealousy and gratitude he always felt when thinking about Peggy Carter. "I was glad he'd found someone, not just who saw him, but who was worthy of him. It was wartime, though, and they never had time to just be together. So as far as I know, Steve never had a real relationship."

Peter finally uncovered his face. "Doesn't sound that way to me."

"Oh, really, the boy who is having a hard time asking a girl on a date will share his wisdom with us experienced men?" Sam's words were joking, but the look in his eyes indicated to Bucky that he should pay close attention to what Peter said next.

Peter spoke in his usual shy, hesitant manner. "You were always making sure Captain Rogers wasn't alone on those nights, right? And he came along because you wanted him there. I mean, it just seems to me that there was a long-term serious relationship there, but it was between you and Captain Rogers. You were the two spending all of those dates together, after all."

Bucky looked from Peter to Sam, who dabbed his mouth with a napkin and stared pointedly at Bucky. "Out of the mouths of babes, man. Out of the mouths of babes."

Ears ringing, vision blurring. An incipient panic attack. Bucky felt Sam and Peter both lightly touch his arms, grounding him in the moment, as Sam continued to talk softly to him. "Good, deep breath. Good job, deep breath. Another."

 _"_ _If Wilson does not calm you down in five minutes, I'll call for help."_

As Bucky focused on steadying his hands to take sip of coffee, he spent a few moments surveying his environment. Queens, New York. Hipster, gentrified coffee house. Mundane music playing softly. Scattered singles working on laptops, couples enjoying brunch, larger families gathering tightly around small tables. A diverse tapestry of humanity, different ethnicities and languages and so much love and laughter bubbling up above the general background noise. Two women holding hands, two men with a baby carrier between them. It was the year 2022, not the 1930s, when Bucky first learned to suppress his feelings for Steve. After a few moments, he nodded his thanks and felt his control return to him.

Bucky took one more deep, cleansing breath. "Steve and I, we were never like that. But…" His eyes searched out the male couple, one spoon-feeding the baby, the other watching with a besotted expression. "I wanted to. With him. I always wanted to."

Sam squeezed Bucky's hand, his voice brimming with compassion. "I proud of you. Really. Saying that out loud after keeping it in all this time must be hard."

Peter said, "Wow."

Bucky had to laugh at that, and he smiled through the tears gathering in his eyes. "I loved him. I love him."

"We know." Sam held his hand even tighter.

Bucky started shaking. "I'm actually having an adrenaline crash right now. Jesus. This is ridiculous."

Peter walked around the table to sit in the chair next to Bucky. Leaning against the vibranium arm, providing comfort in his own way, Peter said, "I'm sorry I was so blunt. I mean, we read about how hard it was for gay people in our history books, but…"

"Oh, shut up. I cannot believe you just brought up history books around me." Bucky put his arm around Peter's shoulders and ruffled his hair with his other hand. "It's a good thing Steve was so impressed by you."

"Really?"

"Yes, but you've insulted me by bringing up my age. He would be very disappointed. You owe me another hot chocolate to appease me and his memory." Bucky indicated the counter. "Go. Now."

"Yes, sir." Peter scurried away under Bucky's affected menacing glare.

"Glad to see you still have some of that scary Winter Soldier attitude."

"Nah, that was all me in my big brother role."

"Are you going to tell me why were you back here in the City?"

Sam's polite attempt to stray from the subject of Steve was doomed to fail, as Bucky explained, "Sharon Carter found me yesterday morning."

Sam immediately tensed with concern. "What did she want, if not to bring you in?"

"She said she'll arrest me next time. This time, she wanted to give me this." Bucky pulled the notebook out from his backpack.

Recognition flared in Sam's eyes. "One of Steve's?"

"Yeah."

"What's in there?"

Bucky closed his eyes, every page already committed to memory. "Me."

When he realized Sam wasn't moving, Bucky opened his eyes. Sam was clearly waiting for permission. "Go ahead."

The first sketch was dated the day after Bucky had fallen from the train. It showed Steve diving after him, the word _sorry_ repeated along his trajectory. The next sketch showed Steve, eyes closed, wrapped around Bucky side-by-side in an open casket. Every sketch featured Bucky: the two of them in Brooklyn, with the Howling Commandos on their best days, Bucky's face over and over again. After Steve was pulled from the ice and the notebook returned to him, Steve had drawn him and Bucky exploring the new century together, but those were quickly overtaken by the Winter Soldier and followed by glimpses of Bucky on the run. There was a sketch of Bucky after Siberia, sleeping in the Quinjet, another of him in the cryo chamber in Wakanda. And sketches of Bucky as Steve had seen him in their video chats, healthy and mostly content.

Sam closed the notebook reverently and handed it back to Bucky. His voice shook with emotion as he said, "Just when I think your lives couldn't get more tragic."

"Shit, don't I know it." Bucky started laughing, because the only alternative was crying.

Sam helplessly joined in the laughter, interrupted only when Peter returned with drinks and cookies. "I figured we still had an appetite for dessert."

"You did good, kid." Bucky felt it was important to reassure Peter, whose earnestness reminded him of Steve.

Sam allowed Peter to take a sip of his third cappuccino of the day before asking, "So, Peter, you gonna ask MJ out?"

Peter looked pleadingly at Bucky, who gestured to himself and said, "You know what they say, those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it."

Peter laughed, but Bucky saw a teary sheen in Sam's eyes.

Bucky continued. "I guess the moral of my whole damned life is to not waste the chances you've got, Peter. Ask MJ out. You'll always regret it if you don't try."

After tearing a snickerdoodle into three parts, Peter asked, "Would you tell Captain Rogers, you know, how you feel if you had another chance?"

 _"_ _The young man asks an excellent question. Would you?"_

For a brief, cruel moment, Bucky allowed himself to imagine seeing Steve again, pulling him into his arms, holding tight and whispering promises of never letting go. The answer was never in doubt.

"Yes, yes, I would."


	7. or maybe not?

"And you're sure they're going to let us in?"

Bucky showed Sam his bracelet of Kimoyo beads. "These are powered on and activated. The shield will allow us to pass through unaffected."

Sam blew out a deep breath. "I'm aiming this Quinjet at the coordinates of a mountain. I hope those work, because I really don't want to die today."

"Me, either."

Sam turned to look at Bucky, sitting in the co-pilot seat next to him, backpack held on his lap. "Really? So, what are those vials for, Barnes?"

Bucky decided there was no reason to evade Sam's questions about the vials any longer. "A way to die someday."

"Someday?"

"The serum changes our metabolism, increases cell regeneration rates, boosts our immune systems… it is possible that nothing short of a head shot or magic can kill me."

"Possible?"

 _"_ _And the Space Stone was part of the manufacture of your serum. The stones are all linked. Your blood and bones still have a connection to the stones."_

Bucky ignored Lady, because he never wanted to think about his tie to those wretched Infinity Stones. "Possible, because I still don't know what killed Steve, but I sure as hell wasn't going to let anyone experiment on him to find out."

"I know, man. I know."

"But all of his health ailments were cured, and the Wakandan doctors saw signatures in both of our cellular structures indicating they repaired as quickly as they were damaged." At Sam's surprised expression, Bucky said, "Yeah, Steve gave samples to the doctors here so they could do whatever needed to fix me."

"Wow."

"It showed an incredible amount of trust on his part."

Sam added, "And how much he would do for you."

Bucky shrugged, not able to convey with words what Steve's devotion meant to him, and continued. "The Wakandans have some experience with enhanced powers, as well as the need to nullify those enhancements. Shuri and the doctors came up with a way to neutralize the effects of the serum… we think."

"Two vials. One for you, one for Steve."

Bucky nodded. "Otherwise, I'm going to continue to outlive everyone I care about. You, Bruce, Peter, Shuri, your children, your grandchildren. Shuri said I might live hundreds of years."

"Jesus."

"The only reason I haven't taken it yet is because I do want to live, and right now a whole lot of people want me gone. Once I feel safe enough, I'm going to take it." Bucky clutched his backpack closer to him to reassure himself of its presence.

"Steve would have, too." Sam was as certain as Bucky was.

"The doctors said any of his recurring health issues would have been manageable with modern medicine, and his body type would have remained the same, just with more difficulty maintaining muscle mass." He sighed wistfully. "We could have lived normal lives."

"You could have had that future together you both wanted." Sam shook his head. "Damn."

"Yeah." Bucky closed his eyes against the gentle sympathy in Sam's face.

"Is it safe to carry those with you? Couldn't someone dose you against your will?"

Bucky opened his eyes and smirked at Sam. "Would you like to fight me for them?"

"Point taken." Sam waited a moment, and Bucky feared he knew what was coming next.

"But you still have a future. Maybe you could find someone to share that future with?"

"No. Absolutely not."

"Barnes." Sam pleaded. "Bucky, shouldn't you give it a chance?"

"I'm over 100 years old, I'm an assassin who unwillingly changed the course of human history, I'm a fugitive from multiple governments, and oh, by the way, I'll always be in love with my dead best friend, Captain Fucking America." Bucky spoke vehemently, hoping Sam would back down. "Seriously, is that fair to anyone, even if I did want to?"

"You deserve to be loved."

"And I was." The fact of Steve's love comforted Bucky like a warm, heavy blanket on a cold Brooklyn winter's day.

Sam must have seen the contentment on Bucky's face. He leaned over and squeezed Bucky's knee. "I mean, I knew. Steve never said it out loud, but those years looking for you pretty much told me all I needed to know about his feelings for you. That notebook was still something to see, though."

"Steve's way of saving me, one last time."

Sam sat back up and turned to look through the cockpit window. "And please, save us right now."

Bucky laughed as they passed through the Wakandan barrier and the auto-pilot guided them to a smooth landing.

"Do you have time to hang around?" Bucky realized he was going to miss Sam, something he would not have thought possible a few years ago.

"I wish I did. Sadly, my superhero duties do not agree."

"Thanks for bringing me back here." Bucky patted Sam's shoulder as he got up from his seat. "Let me know if there is anything I can do to help you."

"Would you mind if I sent you files to go over, you know, strategy and intelligence work?"

"That'd be a much-needed distraction, thanks."

"Goats not going to be enough for you this time?" The tone was teasing, but Bucky knew it was Sam's way of asking him if he was okay.

"Distractions definitely required."

Sam nodded. "I got you."

After wishing each other luck, Bucky disembarked. As he did, the voice in his ear said, _"Permission to inform Stark of your location?"_

"Sure, Lady."

Bucky stood at the end of the landing pad until the Quinjet faded from sight. He heard a familiar step behind him. He turned to greet her.

"General Okoye."

"Sergeant Barnes."

They shook hands, but then Okoye surprised him with a hug. "I've missed our sparring sessions."

"Me, too."

A fleeting moment of recognition passed over her face as she saw Steve's leather jacket and scarf wrapped, observing Bucky only carried the small backpack he'd left with. "You look healthy."

He appreciated her politeness. "Thank you. You are as straightforward and beautiful as ever."

"Charmer." Okoye smacked him playfully on the arm. "You have been invited to have dinner with the royal family tonight, but they want you to know they'd understand if you went straight to your cottage and would in no way take a refusal as an insult."

As much as Bucky wanted to see the family who had done so much for him, he was relieved to not have to be social just yet. "Would you please convey my gratitude and apologies?"

"Of course, but no apologies are needed." Okoye gestured to the conveyance to ground level. "Allow me to walk with you to the edge of the city?"

"I'd be honored by your company."

Okoye filled Bucky in on various bits of gossip, laughing together over stories of Shuri's competitive interactions with Tony and Bruce. Bucky asked after her family and expressed his concern that his presence in Wakanda would harm their status now that Sharon Carter knew he was alive.

"We will deal with what comes, but the royal family has offered you a permanent home here."

"For which I'm incredibly grateful. I've just never understood why they have been so generous to me."

They paused at the junction with the road Bucky would continue on to his cottage.

"I've known T'Challa since he was a boy. When his father was murdered, he wasn't ready to be king. What happened with you taught him valuable lessons about his temper and tendency to rush to judgment." Okoye clasped his elbow. "And you and Captain Rogers together showed him the enduring power of loyalty and love. You've been good for our king."

"You give me too much credit."

"Maybe, but it's something to think about."

"Not used to being thought of as a positive influence, I guess."

"I think Captain Rogers saw you as his most positive influence, always."

"I'm just not that man he looked up to anymore."

"All of us change throughout our lives. It would be sad if we did not. Captain Rogers admired the man you became. We all do." Okoye squeezed his elbow on more time. "Shuri kept us up-to-date on what you've been doing since you've left us. The amount of charitable work you've done is admirable."

Bucky tried, he really did. But he knew he would never clean the blood stains from his soul, as much as the good people who surrounded him insisted otherwise.

The conflict must have shown on his face, because Okoye asked, "Are you okay?"

"Of course, I am. What other choice is there?"

Bucky followed the road for the few miles leading to his cottage. He breathed in the now familiar scents of Wakanda. He returned the welcoming waves of his neighbors and allowed himself to be dragged by children to check the health of his goats. They told him they'd stocked his cottage with groceries and laid out fresh linens. He repaid them with hugs and promises to start profanity lessons again. He rejected kind offers of dinner, making people laugh by saying he'd already turned down the royal family and wouldn't want to get them into trouble. Bucky walked right back into the comfortable, uncomplicated life he'd made for himself in this amazing country **.**

He loved Wakanda, its land and its people, but his heart ached being there now. His life there had been structured around getting well enough to reunite with Steve. His steps slowed the closer he got to his cottage.

 _"_ _What's wrong?"_

"I just have a hard time imagining a future without Steve."

 _"_ _Even after these last few years living without him?"_

"It was easier out there. Back here, though, I can't fight the memories of what I'd planned."

 _"_ _Like building the larger house with the studio, so Captain Rogers could practice his art."_

"Yeah, like…" Bucky hesitated. "I never spoke of that with you."

" _Captain Rogers would have loved it. Much like you, he never envisioned a life without you in it. That's why his adjustment after emerging from the ice was so difficult. He had not planned on living without you."_

"How could you know what Steve wanted?" Bucky attempted to reassure himself that Lady could have just picked up the cues from his discussions with Sam, but then he remembered foreign technology was not allowed to operate in Wakandan space without permission and appropriate modification to their security standards. Bucky had assumed Lady's last question to him on the Quinjet had worked because they were still on-board. "Lady, how are you functioning?"

" _I am listening to you as I have for decades. I am talking to you because you finally allowed me to."_

Bucky increased his pace towards his cottage. The last few hundred meters were open space and deserted. Nobody to help, nobody to witness.

"Stark tech shouldn't be working here."

 _"_ _The physical earpiece was made by Stark Industries, but I was not. I'm not Stark technology."_

He fought his instinct to rip the earpiece out, because he knew that would not solve the larger problem at hand. He needed more information. "Why are you talking like you know Steve?"

 _"_ _I have come to know him recently."_

"Steve is dead."

 _"_ _And you are alive, James. Are you glad to be alive?"_

"I don't want to be dead."

 _"_ _After all the pain you have suffered, all the horrible acts inflicted upon you, you still want to live?"_

"I've fought too hard to be myself to want to die."

Bucky meant it. He had worked so hard to find himself again, had the help of so many good people, he wanted a chance to live as himself. "Tell me how you know Steve, if you aren't one of Stark's AIs."

 _"_ _The two of you realized you were in love with each other on the same day. Did you know that, James?"_

Bucky had never told his story of that moment to anyone. The joy and the anguish of being in a dangerous love with his best friend. Never whispered it aloud to himself, never set it down on paper. He'd spent most of his life before the war trying to forget it, his life after regaining his identity clinging to the memory. He halted with his cottage in view. The windows were dark, no obvious changes. He challenged Lady. "Yeah?"

 _"_ _You were both teenagers. He had been ill for several days. You were not worried at first, because he was often sick. But this time, his mother called the priest for last rites, and you were frightened, so frightened. Mrs. Rogers and your mother told you to stay away, but late that night, you snuck into Steven's room. His mother did not want to hear his last breath, so she was not with him."_

Poor Sarah Rogers. She had struggled so much to keep Steve alive, to give them a decent life as a single mother in a cruel time. Bucky understood her desire to not watch Steve die, but he could not leave his best friend alone.

 _"_ _You brought with you three gifts:_ The Time Machine _by H.G. Wells, a small block of ice, and an orange."_

Bucky had taken the items without permission. Ice and oranges were precious, but he knew his mother would understand when she found out. He wrapped the ice in a handkerchief and wiped Steve's brow and held it to his neck, hoping to reduce the fever. He squeezed the orange, slice by slice, into Steve's mouth, hoping to provide much needed calories and hydration. He'd kicked off his shoes and curled up in the bed with Steve.

 _"_ _You carefully arranged him in your arms to support him. You knew you had found the best position when his breathing eased. You propped the book open and read it to him through the night, remembering, as always, which ear to whisper in so he could best hear you. Steven woke up with your arms around him, convinced he continued to breathe for you because he loved you. From that morning on, he slept on that same side, waiting for you to return to him, remembering your warmth and the feel of your breath on his cheek."_

Standing in the cool breezes of Wakandan twilight, Bucky felt himself warm at the memory of Steve in his arms. It was not the first nor the last time they shared a bed, but it was the time everything changed. Bucky woke up that morning, scared he had fallen asleep only to let his friend die.

 _"_ _You gasped as you awakened. He responded by saying your name._ Bucky _. And in that moment, you wanted to hold him through every night of your futures, to keep him alive, to share your warmth, to hear him say your name with that wondrous tone again, because you loved him."_

Through the tears in his eyes, Bucky saw a light turn on in his cottage and shadows move in the windows. He tensed, but still approached, almost wishing he carried multiple knives like he used to, but strangely certain he would not need them.

"Tell me, now, who are you?"

 _"_ _I am the Soul Stone, and I judge the two of you have sacrificed enough."_

"Bucky?"

That voice, his name in that wondrous tone. Bucky thought he'd never hear it again. But a very confused Steve Rogers was standing in his open doorway. He was still wearing his torn and dirty uniform, like the last few years had never happened for him.

"Steve?" Bucky ran the last several meters to his door.

"Bucky. How did I get here? This is your place in Wakanda, right?"

Bucky hurried them inside the cottage, torn between hoping someone would witness this miracle and fearing he was hallucinating. Both men started patting each other down, the familiar check for injuries after a skirmish.

Steve continued. "People had started to reappear, but I didn't see you. I thought I was dying, and I was scared I hadn't brought you back. That I'd done everything I could, but it wasn't enough to bring you back."

Bucky heard the anguish in Steve's voice and assured him. "I'm here, Steve. I'm here. You brought me back. You brought us all back."

"The last thing I remember was hitting the ground. My vision greyed out. I thought… what happened"

"You were dead, Steve." Bucky began to cry. "That was over two years ago."

"What?" Steve dropped to the floor, and Bucky fell to his knees beside him.

"You were dead. Thor transported you away so people couldn't use you…" Bucky sobbed. "God, I missed you so much."

Steve moved to support his back against the wall. He drew Bucky to him, arranging him so he straddled Steve's lap as they embraced each other. "I'm so sorry, Buck. Two years?"

Bucky pulled back, framing Steve's face with his hands. "Do you feel alright? Like, are you hungry? In pain? Anything?"

"I feel fine." Steve ran his hands up and down Bucky's arms in a soothing motion, eyes widening when he noticed his own leather jacket. "I mean, I'm confused. Maybe a little freaked out? I could stand to take a shower. But physically, I think I'm okay."

"I can't believe you're here. I'm scared to believe you're here." Bucky used his metal hand to card through Steve's hair and used the thumb of his other hand to caress Steve's cheek.

Steve turned his head and pressed a quick kiss to Bucky's palm. Blushing, he looked away from Bucky. "We could call over one of your neighbors to see if I'm real? Video chat with someone?"

"Not tonight. Tomorrow, maybe, but…" Bucky tipped Steve's chin up to look at him. "Tonight, while I have this chance, I'm going to be brave and use my damned words."

Steve's eyes were still the same, pools of blue that Bucky could swim in forever. They shimmered with tears. "I love you, Steve. I've loved you since we were teenagers. You've been my best friend, my brother, but I want more. Even when we were told it was wrong and sinful, I wanted more. I've loved you in war and in hell and in death and in life and in the here and now. I love you."

Bucky felt lighter than he had since he was a child, the burden of an unspoken love lifted from him. He smiled as Steve's hands gently danced over his face.

"You are so beautiful, Buck. You always were to me. I love you, I love you, I love..." Steve placed a hand on the nape of Bucky's neck, coaxing him forward. "Please, I want…"

Bucky touched his mouth to Steve's, once… twice… then pressed their foreheads together. He felt strong arms tighten around him.

"Welcome home, Steve."


End file.
